


Bitter Green

by greygerbil



Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: Aftermath Of A Enduring Torture To Keep Enemy From Noticing What A's Friends Were Doing, Aggressive kissing, Complicated Relationships of Gratitude and Resentment and Loyalty and Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21734182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greygerbil/pseuds/greygerbil
Summary: When Charles comes home beaten and bloodied only weeks after his return from the dead, Nathan isn't ready to listen to more excuses.
Relationships: Nathan Explosion/Charles Foster Offdensen
Comments: 1
Kudos: 46
Collections: Writing Rainbow Green





	Bitter Green

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cricket_aria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cricket_aria/gifts).



> Title in reference to a lovely song that Dethklok would find awful, especially for the grandspas guitars.

Water ran pink down the drain. The sink had sturdy bat wings spreading out to both sides to keep with the general aesthetic of Mordhaus and Charles gripped one of them with sudden silent gratitude to the band’s sense of design – leaning down to wash the blood of his face made the world spin and the chance for support was appreciated.

It had been a regrettable necessity to stay with his torturers, perhaps punishment for the fact that he had not managed to keep Dethklok out of harm’s way after tonight’s concert in Washington. After the band’s horrendous mismanagement of their properties, Charles was still refilling the Klokateer ranks, so everything was in a state of flux he was not very comfortable with.

Still, it had all worked out. Nathan could be obtuse and easily distracted, but when it came to keeping Dethklok alive, Charles counted on him and had yet to be proven wrong. Despite the pacts the band had made to prevent themselves from doing anything like forming emotional bonds, Charles was well aware Nathan felt responsible for them in some sense and cared about them in his own way. Charles’ order to take them to the Dethkopter had been given with sufficient urgency that Nathan had followed it swiftly.

So while Nathan herded the band and fled the premises, Charles had kept the attacker’s attention on himself, allowing himself to get captured, pretending to crack, revealing bits and pieces about a non-existent secret underground bunker under the venue into which Dethklok had supposedly been transported. It had been an immense relief to see the Dethkopter take flight, blurred as his sight had been, filled with tears. Thus released, Charles had used the switchblade in his sleeve to cut the ropes he’d been tied with and dealt with his torturers swiftly.

The boys had gotten back to Mordhaus without incident, as Klokateer 4891 had reported back to him after Charles had made his way there clinging to a hoverbike. Even the civilian casualties at the concert had been kept to a number that wouldn’t have been unusual for any other major Dethklok outing, which would make it easy to silence any reports in the media about this unfortunate lapse. The last thing they needed right now was more controversy. He had to get Dethklok back on track first. In fact, he should get started on the damage control right now, but his bruised ankle kept trying to give out and his eyes would not focus.

With a sigh, Charles decided to take a moment to assess the damage – keeping himself healthy and alive was, as had already been proven, a significant factor for Dethklok’s success, too. After dragging himself into his bedroom, he fell on the simple black leather sofa there and began to methodically think his way up from his feet. He was rather sure one or two of his toes on the left foot were broken, there was the ankle that had been bothering him, though he hoped that was a simple sprain. He did certainly have a couple of broken ribs and a concussion as well as a split lower lip. The suit and shirt were a write-off, obviously, shredded and bloodied, and his glasses were broken, but the only shard of them that had ended up embedded in his skin Charles had already removed with a quick flick while stepping over the bodies of his attackers. There were various bruises and shallow wounds mainly on his face, neck, and upper body, where his captors had had access to bare skin after tearing his shirt open. One of them had drawn a thin line from his clavicle down to his navel with the tip of his knife. Frowning down at it, Charles hoped it would not turn into an unsightly scar.

The door to his bedroom flew open, the handle hitting the wall with a resounding _bang_.

“Hey, Cha- what the fuck?!”

In the doorway loomed Nathan. He looked, to Charles’ pleasure, much less like he’d been put through the wringer. He wasn’t visibly wounded, had wiped off his stage make-up already and had changed into a fresh shirt and jeans. Only his long hair was still a bit out of order.

“Nathan,” he said measuredly, hoping against hope that Nathan had something more important than Charles’ chaotic state to think about – all members of Dethklok were greatly practiced at ignoring anything not currently on their agenda, which could at times be helpful. “What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to tell you that I got everybody on the helicopter...” Nathan still stared at him.

“Yes, I heard. Thank you for your assistance back there.” He cleared his throat. “Can we postpone any other topics for now? I should put on some fresh clothes.”

“Yes, uh – no!” Nathan took two long strides in the room and Charles immediately knew he wouldn’t be able to end this conversation on his own terms. “What happened to you? You looked fine when I saw you back in the arena.”

“Ah, yes, well, I had an accident. You do remember there was a lot of fire...”

Despite his bruised lip, Charles tried his best for a noncommittal smile. Nathan narrowed his eyes at him. Even in the dim light of the room, they shone with such an intense green that Charles wondered if there was a fire inside Nathan lighting them up. He had never been able to look into these eyes without a little bit of a private shiver, not when they were laser-focused like this. It made him feel like Nathan could look straight into him and pull out the regrettable infatuation Charles had felt for years now.

“You don’t – you don’t look like, I don’t know, some beam fell on you or whatever. Nothing’s burned. You look like you got in a fight.”

Leave it to Nathan Explosion to turn into a detective at the least opportune moment. Sometimes Charles resented his boys’ sudden flashes of brightness more than their general tendency towards underthinking their lives.

“It’s nothing important, I promise you. A small security breach. I am still getting the systems back up and running. Now, if you would be so kind as to leave me to-”

“I’m not fucking going! Wait – you’re my employee, right?!”

“Yes?” Charles said warily.

Nathan stood right in front of him now, glaring down at him.

“So, I, uh, I order you to tell me what happened!” Nathan demanded.

“It was really nothing you need concern yourself with. I will have it handled by tomorrow. Maybe at a later date, we can talk about it.”

When Nathan had, hopefully and predictably, forgotten about it. This really was of no import, nothing like the unbelievable things Charles had uncovered during the time until his return. If those people had gone after him again, he wouldn’t have survived capture, and they had too much information about him to believe than any amount of torture would break him down to a point where he would betray Dethklok. These people tonight had been amateurs and Charles felt lucky for it.

Nathan grabbed him by the halves of his torn suit jacket and yanked him up until there was barely an inch between their faces anymore.

“Stop doing that! You keep saying you’ll explain shit to us, but you never do!”

Charles was struck by how honestly furious Nathan seemed. He had not expected to elicit such responses from him. Despite some grumbling, the band was usually very happy to be kept in the dark about all manner of things and in fact often actively resisted attempts to enlighten them.

“Nathan, they were only some disgruntled former fans. They were no real danger,” he said carefully.

“Then why’d you get beat up like that? Doesn’t look not-dangerous to me.”

Charles sighed.

“Could you put me down? My foot doesn’t feel too good.”

“Oh... yeah.”

Somewhat sheepishly, Nathan placed him back on the sofa, then planted himself down next to Charles, hunched over. He was still glaring at him and Charles realised he would probably have to tell the truth or risk a real fight.

“They were not very well-organised – enough to be a threat in the moment, but not to become a real obstacle in the long term. Still, I had to get you boys to safety, and, ah... it seemed pertinent to keep their attention on me and pretend I would tell on you, so to speak, until I could be sure you had gotten the band into the helicopter, which you did. So everything is alright.”

“The fuck it is!” Nathan snapped. “You told me you were going to, like, the control room and shit! If I’d known you were going to do something like that, I wouldn’t have let you leave!”

“Which honours you, but it’s really not necessary for you to worry about me.”

For a moment, Nathan looked at him like he’d lost his mind.

“You fucking _died_! You were gone for months!”

“Ah,” Charles made. That was what this was about. “Be assured, I now have better failsafes in place in case I die. In hindsight, I should have known you wouldn’t consult the list of replacement managers I had given you. So if you remember, I did make you sign a paper last week that in the case of my death, Felicia Hemmensworth-Berrywell is going to automatically take over.” He doubted Nathan or any of the others still knew that, since they had been quite drunk. “She is a very accomplished manager and you should have no trouble with her. Had I died tonight, she would have been CFO effective immediately.”

Nathan let out a groan, a sound deep like two stones rubbing together. “It’s not about us acting like assholes when we were managers! It’s...” His hands were raised and he grabbed Charles by the shoulders this time. Charles braced himself for the pain of being shaken, but Nathan only held him in place and then crashed their mouths together.

Charles sat motionless until Nathan’s tongue forced into his half-open mouth, when some pain-drunk instinct took over, completely overruling the sensible voice telling him to free himself immediately. Instead, he grasped the front of Nathan’s shirt and brought him closer with a decisive yank, years of quiet affection released as he pushed into him. Nathan’s arms pulled him in tightly, pressing on cracked bones, fresh bruises, open wounds, and Charles relished the ache, lost himself in vertigo.

They parted after what could have been minutes. Looking at him, Charles noticed a trail of faint red on Nathan’s lips. His tongue came out to lap at it and the image was somehow the most attractive thing Charles had seen all year.

“Woah... blood. Brutal. Sorry.”

Charles shook his head as gently as he could, dread taking over for the mad urgency that had gripped him for a moment. His lip was the very least of their problems.

“This is not a good idea. I would not compromise our professional relationship...”

Nathan frowned at him.

“Managers don’t die and come back from the dead or go get beaten up for their bands. So, uh, what the hell... is our _professional relationship_?”

It was hard to deny that Nathan had a point. Dethklok was in all respects an extraordinary band and Charles’ connection to them much more than a job. His life had been entirely devoted to them for years now. Even before he’d seen what he’d seen, understood the full scope of everything going on around them, he had told the surplus manager the band had hired that he would have to kill him if he wanted his position and meant it.

He would have to say the truth again, which was much more uncomfortable and had the potential to create a much bigger rift.

“Nathan, I... care for you a great deal. More than can be resolved by, er, going to bed together,” Charles said slowly.

For a moment, Nathan stared intently at his knees through the curtain of his dishevelled hair.

“When you... you know, weren’t around, I, uh, I thought about you. A lot. And it’s not like I thought about fucking you. Well. Not just about that. I did think about it a little bit. It’s, uhm.”

Nathan had obvious manoeuvred himself into some sort of corner, looking frustrated and embarrassed, but Charles was used enough to his way of communication to have his heart leap, anyway. Perhaps, had he been in less pain and not trying to think through a concussion, he would have made a better choice, but as it was, he grabbed Nathan’s chin, turned his head to him and kissed him again.

Nathan only gave him a rather timid kiss this time, though the way he grasped onto his sides proved he would have done more if he hadn’t worried about splitting his lip open. He _did_ put rather a lot of pressure on Charles’ broken ribs, but he couldn’t even think to complain right now.

Nathan leaned back to look at him with mild discomfort.

“I think you, uh, need to get to a doctor. Your pupils are all messed up.” He waved his hand before Charles’ face. “Different sizes.”

“Yes, I’m afraid I have a concussion. I will visit our medical ward.”

Obviously Nathan was right, but Charles was afraid that if he moved away now, the spell would be broken and Nathan would at best try to forget this and at worst freak out, once the first shock of finding Charles bleeding on the sofa was over. As far as Charles knew – and Charles knew just about everything about the band –, Nathan had never even been with a man.

Still, he had to be reasonable. Carefully, Charles got to his feet, shifting his weight off his bad ankle as much as he could and blinking to clear his vision. His departure would not be a very dignified performance. All the adrenaline had long run out and now he was just preoccupied and hurting and wished he could have sat quietly next to Nathan on the sofa.

As he considered the best path from here to the door, something suddenly wrapped around his hips and lifted him up in the air. Again the world spun angrily out of control as he was dropped sideways onto Nathan’s arm.

Nathan glowered at him as if he dared him to say anything, then carried Charles out of the room. After a moment of baffled stasis, Charles relaxed cautiously into his arms and felt Nathan pull him tighter against his chest. Perhaps today had not been such a fiasco, after all.


End file.
